


hate is a strong word (but i really really really don't like you)

by rustytiffany



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustytiffany/pseuds/rustytiffany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel wants to hate Quinn. She really does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hate is a strong word (but i really really really don't like you)

You haven’t seen her in a year, not since you graduated from McKinley and escaped Lima practically before anyone could say goodbye. Not that anyone particularly cared. You didn’t have friends in high school, she made sure of that. You did manage to build something akin to friendship with Kurt after he left for Dalton, but with him at a different school you found it difficult to spend significant time together. You were a bit surprised when you received an invitation to Puck’s glee club reunion party via facebook the summer after your freshman year of college, you wouldn’t have expected anyone to even realize if you weren’t there. Then again, Puck was the only one who ever spoke to you outside the club other than to insult you, claiming he had to at least be civil to his fellow Jews. You had nothing better to do that night, which was how you found yourself in Noah Puckerman’s backyard, tipsy off of vodka cranberries and iced tea that Puck said was special because it was from Long Island. 

You hadn’t intended to stay very long, especially not after you saw her there. She looked incredible, even better than you remembered. No matter how much you hated her, you could never deny her breathtaking beauty. The girl was positively gorgeous, almost angelic. You would have found it hard to believe that someone so physically attractive could be so cruel underneath, had you not experienced it first hand. You end up staying much longer than you anticipated, and when it became clear to you that you were in no shape to drive home, Puck offers you his little sister’s room for the night, as she was away at camp. You stumble into the room and collapse on the bed, passing out within seconds.

You aren’t sure how long you were asleep, but you awake some time later, desperately needing to pee. Luckily, Puck’s sister’s room had an adjoining bathroom. When you were done (what was it about alcohol that made you have to pee so much?), you wash your hands and splash some water on your face, attempting to wake yourself up a bit so you could think more clearly. You could hear strains of music from outside, indicating that the party was far from over. You don’t feel as drunk anymore, your nap helped sober you up a bit, but you still don’t feel sober enough to drive. You figure you should drink some water to avoid a hangover the next morning, but you can’t find any cups in the bathroom. You walk out to head downstairs to find a cup, but something was blocking the doorway. Or, rather, some _one_. You look up into blazing hazel eyes. There was a bit of the anger and disdain you were used to seeing, but there was something else you couldn’t quite place. You’d seen the look a few times in high school, usually before she spat out yet another defeminizing nickname and stalked off. An extra slushie attack usually followed as well. You didn’t know what you’d done to make her hate you so much, but you quickly learned not to ask. The one time you tried she glared at you with such malice you almost expected her slap you. You have no idea what she’s doing in Puck’s sister’s room or why she is blocking the exit. You glance behind her to see if anyone else is there, but no, you are alone. You start to politely ask her to move so you can go downstairs, but she literally _growls_ and cuts you off, shoving you roughly against the wall and pinning your arms above your head. She kicks the door closed behind her, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Berry, for once in your life, just shut the _fuck_ up.”

Her voice is low and gravelly, nothing like the sweet, melodic sounds you remember coming from her. You know better than to test her, even though high school is over and you haven’t seen each other in a year, and you keep your mouth shut. She stares at you so intensely you start to feel uncomfortable, but something in her eyes captivates you and you can’t bring yourself to look away. You try to squirm away a little to ease the thick tension in the room, but she pushes her body harder against you, making it impossible to move. Your breath hitches slightly when you feel her body against yours; as much as you hate her (and you do, you want to hate her so much), she is still smoking hot and pressed tightly against you, and your body betrays you. Heat rushes to your core, and you feel a light flush spread across your body. You hope she doesn’t notice, but when she quirks an eyebrow and smirks at you, you know she knows.

“Are you enjoying this, Berry? Does it turn you on to have someone dominate you, to submit to someone like this?”

She rolls her hips. You bite back a moan. You don’t want to let her win whatever game she’s playing. She leans in close so her mouth is against your ear.

“Or is it just me that’s turning you on? I know you used to watch me walk away after every one of our little _conversations_ , and don’t think I didn’t notice you staring in glee. You totally had a thing for me didn’t you Berry? You probably got off on me being such a bitch to you. I bet you walked away from our little chats just _dripping_ wet.”

She licks the shell of your ear and nips at your earlobe. Your eyes flutter closed and this time you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips. She grins and skims her fingertips down one of your arms still pinned above your head, her other hand holding your hands in place.

“Did you fantasize about me, Berry? Did you dream of me ravishing you under the bleachers during a football game, or maybe skipping class to have me go down on you in an empty room? Did you imagine me taking you on the stage in the auditorium, when anyone could have walked in? Ooh, wait, I know. I bet you hoped I would pin you against the piano in the choir room, almost the way you are right now. That’s it, isn’t it? You thought about me fucking you against the piano until you forgot everything but my name. Admit it, Berry, you’ve wanted to fuck me since the first day of freshman year when the stupid first-name alphabetized seating in homeroom landed me next to you.”

Her hand had found its way into your shirt without you noticing, so it catches you off guard when she pinches your already-hard nipple. You’d be lying if you said you’d never fantasized about her, but you could honestly say you had never pictured any of the scenarios she was describing. Until now, of course, but it was perfectly understandable considering the circumstances. She pulls off your shirt and expertly unhooks your bra (where did she learn to do that?), then leans down and captures a dusky nipple in her mouth. She bites down lightly and swirls around in with her tongue, and you groan at the sensation. She releases her hold on your arms and brings one hand to your unoccupied breast, while her other hand deftly unbuttons your denim shorts. Her hand slides around your hip and down your shorts, cupping your ass and pulling you even closer to her. You’re so turned on you can practically smell it (can she smell it too?), and you know you’re soaked through to your shorts. If you were able to think clearly, you probably would wonder why she was doing this, or why her descriptions of how you supposedly wanted her were so specific, but your head was foggy with desire and you desperately needed a release. You do, however, wonder how far she’s willing to go, so you thread your hands in her hair and push down slightly, just enough to make sure she knows what you want. She pulls away from your chest with a wet pop and looks at you. The sudden rush of cool air causes you to shiver involuntarily, but you recover quickly and your eyes meet hers. You glance down quickly then back up at her, then raise one eyebrow, challenging her to follow though or back down.

She stares at you for a moment, then wordlessly sinks to her knees, pulling your shorts and underwear down as she goes. You step out of them and she lifts one of your legs and rests it on her shoulder. She wastes no time and dives in, licking and sucking at whatever she can reach. You feel her moan more than you can hear it, and the vibration sends a chill through your body. She slides two fingers into you easily and sucks on your clit; you let out a shuddering breath. You can feel the muscles in your stomach starting to clench and you know you’re close. You look down at her, and you can barely believe what you’re seeing. She’s on her knees between your legs, eating you out like it’s her last meal. You nearly come from the sight. You brace yourself against the wall with one hand as you tangle the other in her hair and pull her as close against you as possible.

This fucking girl. She single-handedly made your high school experience a living hell. Almost very negative thought or feeling you’ve ever had about yourself can be traced back to her. You want to hate her. You _should_ hate her. But when she’s on her knees in front of you, her fingers curling _just right_ and tongue flicking _that spot_ , all you can think is _oh god, Quinn,_ as cry out her name and your orgasm hits, wracking your body with pleasure as you ride it out.

When your breathing finally returns to normal, she sets your leg down and stands up. You lock eyes, and suddenly it clicks; the look in her eyes you couldn’t quite place, the specific descriptions of sex fantasies, the masculine nicknames, the reason why she hated you so much. It all makes sense. You grab the back of her head and crush your lips together, moaning at your taste on her lips. She starts kissing you back, her hand moving to your neck, then quickly pulls back, as though she just realized what she was doing. Her expression is softer than you can ever remember, awed and almost vulnerable, and she brings her fingertips to her lips, like she can’t believe what just happened, then her eyes narrow and her face hardens into the HBIC look you’re accustomed to seeing.

“What the _hell_ , Berry! You just kissed me!”

You smirk and roll your eyes. If she wanted to play this game you were down, since you knew there was no way you were going to lose.

“Yes, Quinn, I kissed you. You just went down on me, it seemed an appropriate way to express my appreciation. Unless, of course, you would like me to return the favor, as they say.”

Her jaw drops slightly, but you can see her eyes darken and her nipples straining against the confines of her tight tank top.

“Why on earth would you think that I—“ You cut her off.

“Oh please, Quinn. Get over yourself. I know you want me, and you’ve wanted me ever since freshman year homeroom when--how did you put it--the stupid first-name alphabetized seating landed me next to you. All your tormenting was you trying to suppress your feelings for me, in hopes that if I hated you, you could convince yourself that you didn’t desperately want to pin me against a locker and ravage me, and you could get over me.”

You step toward her; she swallows hard and steps back. You’re getting to her, you can tell. You keep walking forward as you speak.

“Tell me, Quinn. Those fantasies you accused me of having? Under the bleachers, in empty classrooms, on the stage in the auditorium, up against the piano. How many times have you gotten yourself off to them? How often did you storm off after calling me Man Hands or Treasure Trail, only to have to disappear into the bathroom to masturbate [you notice her bite down hard on her bottom lip] because you were so turned on? You obviously enjoy being in control, but I wonder, do you secretly want to be _taken_? To have someone dominate you?”

You pause to look at her. You’d backed her up to the bed and she’d had to sit down, so you were now taller. You can see how your words are affecting her; she’s breathing hard, her pupils are blown, she’s biting her lip and she looking at you so _desperately_ , like if you don’t do something soon she’s going to explode. You grin and climb on the bed, straddling her and forcing her to lay back. You lean down close so your lips are mere centimeters apart.

“Or maybe you’ve just been waiting for _me_ to dominate you. That’s it, isn’t it Quinn? You’re just _dying_ for me to take you, dominate you, make you _mine_. Well, you’re in luck, because Rachel Berry _never_ disappoints.”

You close the distance between your lips; she immediately tangles her hands in your hair and opens her mouth against yours. You kiss hungrily, desperately, pouring five years of repressed feelings into it. You quickly make work of her tank top and skirt, and all that’s left between you is her pink polka dotted underwear. You press your thigh against her and you can feel the wetness pooled there. She gasps and grinds against you. You move your hand and pull her underwear off, then you trace your fingers lightly along her inner thighs. You know you’re killing her with the teasing, but you’ve waited a long time for this; you’re not going to pass up your chance to make Quinn Fabray squirm. You slide your fingers through her wetness, but you don’t touch her where she needs it most. You bring your fingers to your mouth to taste her; she groans at the loss of contact.

“Jesus fuck, Rachel. You’re torturing me. Please baby I need you so badly, please…oh _fuck_ yes Rachel just like that, god I’m so close...”

You plunge two fingers into her and quickly establish a hard and fast rhythm. She arches off the bed, matching you thrust for thrust. She pants your name over and over like a mantra ( _RachelRachelRachelRachel_ ) and you feel her walls beginning to clench around your fingers.

“Come for me, Quinn.”

You swipe your thumb a few times across her clit; it’s all she needs to tumble over the edge. She comes with a sharp cry, but the sound is quickly drowned out by your mouth on hers. She pulls back from the kiss gasping for air as she rides out her orgasm. You pull out of her slowly and lick your fingers clean. You lean down to kiss her again, this time softer and gentler. There’s no rush now, there’s only the two of you.

You want to hate her. You _should_ hate her. But when she’s laying next to you like this, her naked body flushed and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and she’s giving you _that_ look, all you can think is _oh god, I’m in love with her_ as you curl up against her and drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from hate (I really don't like you), by Plain White T's


End file.
